


X-Force #12.5

by PommeDeTorterra



Category: New Mutants (Comics), X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Beast is an asshole, Daydrinking, Gen, Offscreen Violence, Resurrection, Xenophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PommeDeTorterra/pseuds/PommeDeTorterra
Summary: I know I'm not the only one who wants to see exactly what happens when Beast brings his anti-Russian shtick to Krakoa's OTHER resident Rasputin.Spoilers for X-Force (2019) #12.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	X-Force #12.5

**Author's Note:**

> Is a DoX style datapage in a fic TOO pretentious?
> 
> Apologies in advance if the formatting is off - this whole thing was conceived, written, and posted at work, so I'm going off of what looks right on my phone.

**[X]|**

**BEAST'S LOGBOOK: FAMILY TIES**

**\---------------------------------------------------------**

**While I am certainly no stranger to assault at this particular stage in my life, it's never fun to be reminded exactly how painful an Adamantium-knuckled punch can be. I find myself thankful that Logan is typically on my side, or, at the very least, easily made to see reason. Yesterday's… unfortunate excursion was the rare exception. Is it wrong to be surprised that he knows the term "McCarthyism?" I suppose he was alive during those days, though lord only knows what he was doing.**

**No matter. Logan has already made it quite clear he thinks I'm a poor friend regardless of my private thoughts towards him, disparaging though they may on occasion be.**

**On the subject of thoughts, I still find myself troubled by my recent disagreement with Jean. X-Force lost a valuable agent, certainly, but I don't trust that she'd give up her position as the eyes and ears of the Quiet Council. I've known her for my whole life, and I'm sure that she's smarter than that. On the off chance that she's serious, I shudder to think who will replace her. Mystique, perhaps? Sinister? Something tells me that of the likely candidates, only Emma has the mix of practicality and predictability that would lend itself to the types of tasks that X-Force finds itself doing.**

**Still. Jean. Logan. A lesser man might find himself wracked with self-doubt at the speed with which old allies turn. Colossus, at least, seemed to understand my point of view.**

**But, as** **_homo sapiens_ ** **in general - and particularly those of Piotr's homeland, of late - have seen fit to state time and time again, I am no man. No, I'm Mutant, and more importantly, I'm the Mutant tasked with defending our nation. McCarthy was an ideologue, a small-minded fool, concerned more with amassing political power than national security. But I? I may not have a seat on the Council, but I have all the power I could ask for. Anything else would be hubris.**

**Piotr was apprehended successfully, give or take a bruise or two. I have little doubt that Mikhail will follow shortly. But let's not forget that it isn't simply a family of brothers.**

**I do believe it's time I had a chat with Captain Rasputin.**

**\---------------------------------------------------------**

  
  


Illyana couldn't remember the last time she had woken up in such a bad mood. Probably, she thought, before that miraculous mutant master of macchiato had perfected the art of Krakoan coffee. There had been bad days, of course, between plant zombies, zombie zombies, old ladies who might as well _be_ zombies, and far too many failed attempts at resurrection, but lately, she found herself with an uncharacteristic faith that any problem she faced would work itself out. And, for the most part, they had. She hadn't seen any sort of zombie for weeks, her best friend was back, and she'd been kicking asses everywhere she went. In fact, before yesterday, she'd have gone so far as to say that she was genuinely _happy._

But this morning? 

Well.

It was no surprise that she found herself at the Green Lagoon, and it was even less of a surprise that she found herself given a wide berth. Everyone knew what they had seen the day before, obviously, and they were intelligent enough to exactly what that would mean for her disposition. Anole didn't even make an attempt to do the usual bartender routine, and seemed almost as wary of her as he had when she had first come back, and ripped out his friend's soul once or twice - though he had been kind enough to bring her a pair of straw glasses with her mudslide. She briefly found herself thinking that she'd have to look out for him whenever the next big inter-Mutant fight came around, before she realized exactly what that might entail, and just pissed herself off _more._

Five stools over, Eye-Boy shot her a worried glance (well, nine or ten worried glances), and moved a few more seats away with a level of poise and subtlety that made Juggernaut look downright stealthy. Illyana glared in response, but was honestly thankful. You'd have to be a real idiot to hassle her today.

"Good morning, Illyana. Have a minute?"

"Son of a _fuck._ " Of course. Of _course._ She slowly removed the glasses, casually chucked them to her right (prompting a slight squeal from Hawkins), and opted to just chug the remainder of her drink instead. Once it was done, she wiped away the resulting… mudstache? with the back of her hand, and swiveled around to frown at the single least welcome intruder she could imagine. "Are you sure this is where you want to be, Beast?"

Beast responded with a shrug and a cheerful grin, and Illyana couldn't quite decide which she found more condescending. "Come now, you can't believe you're the only one who sees the appeal of the occasional pre-lunch libation." He sat next to her, and waved, trying unsuccessfully to grab the attention of Anole, who was suddenly extremely invested in mixing a drink. Smart man, Illyana thought with a chuckle, as she spun back around. Beast gave a quiet hum of disapproval, but soldiered on. "On that note, what did you have?"

"A mudslide." She could have been talking to him, of course. The fact that Anole brought her another drink while steadfastly pretending he didn't see her company was probably just a coincindence.

"Ah, yes. I say, Krakoan coffee is an absolute delight, don't you think? Although…" He leaned in close, conspiratorial, shit-eating grin plastered on his face, "It wouldn't be the same without the _vodka,_ now would it?"

He could _not_ be serious with this. Illyana didn't even dignify that with a response, electing to take a sip instead. He was doing a fine enough job digging his own grave. 

"Of course, look who I'm talking to! You know what they say, 'you can take the Mutant out of Russia…'" He trailed off, visibly annoyed that she had yet to respond. "Which leads me, as I'm sure you're aware, to the crux of my visit."

"Hm."

"You see, after the unfortunate business with your brother - or, at least, the one who's here on the island, I found myself thinking about our relationship, you and I."

She frowned, and took another gulp. "So sorry to disappoint, but you're not my type. More of a distant, obnoxious uncle."

He chuckled, and propped his elbow up on the bar. "A devastating loss for one of us, I'm sure. No, I'm afraid I found myself thinking about how often of late we've found ourselves on opposing sides. The kerfuffle with the Phoenix Force, Scott's subsequent 'Mutant Revolution,' why, even back to that ugly schism between him and Wolverine! Have you ever wondered why that may be?"

"Because you're a big, blue, asshole?"

Beast sputtered, taken aback, and adjusted his glasses with a grimace. "An interesting theory, Illyana, but let me respond with one of my own: from the start, your loyalty has always been more to your birthland than the greater good of Mutantkind. I think you've been acting as a gadfly for years, and Captain or no, you shouldn't be trusted. Am I wrong?"

Illyana stared down into her mug, dangerously empty, and weighed all of the many, _many_ unkind words she wanted to hurl in his direction. But for as furious as she was, for the disrespect to Piotr, the disrespect to _her,_ she found herself oddly… calm. "You're aware, I'm sure, that I've spent more time in Limbo than I ever did in Russia? That I've been a New Mutant, an X-Man, longer than I've been anything else?"

Beast shrugged, undeterred. "Indoctrination can start young, and last a lifetime. And really, with how often you've been in the wrong, how much of that time was spent _truly_ as an X-Man?"

Illyana nodded, thoughtfully, and set her mug down gently. "So, that's how it is. Tell me, Beast, is this _official_ unofficial X-Force business, or are you coming to me as a concerned citizen? I notice none of the others came with you."

"At the moment, strictly off the clock. I thought it only polite to warn you that I'm keeping an eye on you, so you don't go the way of poor Piotr."

"How kind," she said, utterly deadpan. With her right hand, the one Beast couldn't see, she reached into the empty space behind her, and her fingers curled around something all too tangible. "Final question: have you been through Resurrection Protocols yet?"

"No," Beast replied, blue brow furrowed, "But I hardly see what that has to do with-"

  
  
  


**[X]|**

**BEAST'S LOGBOOK: A STICKY WICKET**

**\---------------------------------------------------------**

**While The Five's gifts are a boon nothing short of miraculous, I'd be remiss if I didn't point out certain unpleasant downsides.**

**It is a distressingly** **_biological_ ** **process, and while I'd rather not think too deeply as to exactly what the fluid in which I found myself is made of, I am absolutely certain that it is, as Logan might say, an absolute bitch to get out of fur. Not to mention, much though I'd like to forget, the smell.**

**Yes, fur - while I didn't necessarily specify my desire to be resurrected in my current state, I must admit I'm glad that my husk body was created to match it. If nothing else, it means I don't have to redesign all of my equipment for differently shaped hands.**

**Again.**

**I clawed my way out of my egg, disoriented at first, but expecting the usual crowd along with Storm's pontificating. To my surprise, while Ororo was there, she and Charles were the only ones to greet me upon my return. Something about not wanting to make a celebration out of a resurrection caused by interpersonal conflict. I understand of course, if Krakoans ended all of their arguments like Magik seems to, The Five would be kept far too busy.**

**Ororo's usual routine was far more subdued than I expected, as well. "Teammate, teacher, family," and all of that good old rot, to be sure, but she seemed almost… disappointed. I suppose she has her hands full, between the Marauders, and the thus-far unsolved Techno-Organic virus that's slowly killing her.**

**I sympathize, of course. We all have work to do.**

**I passed by Magik on my way home. She said nothing to me, and I, in turn, nothing to her.**

**It seems that while I am privileged enough to leap my way over the queue, I was not resurrected before she finished getting her new blue fur cape hemmed. In poor taste, I think, but then again, Illyana never has been one for tact.**

**Still, the work goes on, regardless of any temporary setbacks. I have a nation to protect, and while I'm sure that she feels she simply returned my warning with one of her own, I'm equally certain of one thing:**

**This isn't over.**

**\---------------------------------------------------------**


End file.
